Late night exploring j.a.pan WITH koi.

Shouri booked a twenty-person dining hall, sitting in the middle of the sofa with his head high and chest straight. He’s completed all the tasks given to him, so he can show off to his comrades now.

He agreed to Bob’s request, which is to use the j.a.panese people’s best technique, to host the girl Abigail Graves he unfortunately met in the VIP lounge, just a few hours ago. At first he did his best to reject it with a ‘what does this have to do with me’ argument, and planned to let Abigail handle her lodgings on her own, but she herself didn’t seem to have the slightest desire to. Even if he brought Abigail to the hotel lobby, she would just stare at Shouri smilingly. Shouri was forced to bring the cheerleader captain in a kimono even comedy couples don’t wear anymore—almost crimson-red and embroidered with fish in gold thread—wandering the streets at night.

But at that time Shouri never imagined that she would want to go to a manga café. The moment she saw the 24-hour sign, Abigail happily pulled Shouri’s hand and walked inside.

Late night manga café WITH koi.

After reading a lot of j.a.panese manga there, they ran to a 24-hour karaoke. When he finally contacted Bo with his cellphone after the latter’s party ended, he said in a half-threat, “I’m letting the koi loose now”, and finally got Bob to come over. From manga cafes to karaoke… Although they didn’t take the Hato Bus Tour, in some ways, it’s still a very comprehensive tour of j.a.pan.

And then right now, Abigail Graves is taking turns to use the remote control to pick songs with one hand, together with the newly-added mysterious man—Jose Rodriguez.

Furious, s.h.i.+buya Shouri says to the duo sitting opposite him,

“I did it, just like you said! I properly hosted this American geisha!”

Bob tilts his gla.s.s full of Oolong champagne, while Murata Ken holds his spoon full of curry rice still. Seeing them look so laidback, really p.i.s.ses him off. His little brother is missing, why do they have the sweet time to eat curry rice!

The man Bob and Murata brought back from Haneda is also the embodiment of ‘laidback’. He watches the screen full of anime scenes, singing the song “This isn’t Anime!”[1]. As for the hand holding the microphone, forget the pinky, even his thumb is sticking out.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s that guy who looks like he won’t be of any use at all?”

Not only does he look like he won’t be of any use, he basically looks like a troublemaker.

That man who calls himself DR Jose Rodriguez, has his finger-long black hair tied lightly behind. But that’s basically a pointless action, since there are still some tufts of hair sticking to his face or forehead. The narrow eyes behind his gla.s.ses always look like they’re smiling, thanks to the wrinkles around his eyes. Although he’s so skinny he looks sickly, that doesn’t mean he’s unhealthy. It’s just that, in Shouri’s j.a.panese eyes, he has a suspicious sort of feeling.

Apparently he wore weird windbreaker gla.s.ses when he arrived in the five o’clock flight, and the first thing he said was, “Hi~~ Everybody, how do I look? I’m channeling Quattro Bajeena[2], you know!”

Recently as long as you wear huge sungla.s.ses, a Darth Vader helmet, or a US president Reagan rubber mask or other confusing things, what’ll happen in ‘Come over here to make a statement!’. But it seems that because Bob has influence everywhere, Rodriguez got to avoid getting invited to another room for ‘a cup of tea’.

Thinking about that, Shouri suddenly wonder: What kind of DOCTOR is he? A professor in anime? Or the relative of an anime shop owner!?

“Ah—Rodriguez is my friend, and a doctor…”

“Oh—So that’s how it is. He’s sung four TWO-MIX[3] songs in a row, too.”

At least he seems to get along really well with Abigail. They sure have chemistry for the first time meeting, even enjoying the j.a.panese karaoke culture, looking just like an Abby & Rod duo.

“I can understand how tense you feel.”

Murata Ken sighs as he put down his spoon. It may be because his gla.s.ses are fogged up, but his expression is indecipherable.

“But we can’t do it at night, the brother of my friend. Just like you I want to find s.h.i.+buya as soon as possible too, but once it’s night time, we can’t find him even if we tried. Besides travelling was never too easy, so I hope we can make the proper arrangements before attempting it, to increase the chances of success as high as we can.”

“So nighttime flights don’t work, huh? Mn—then, Murata Ken, are there any specific ways?”

“Specific ways?”

“That’s right. Although yesterday all you tried was diving into dirty water, but now that you have that man there should be some changes, right? Like the magic runes getting an extra corner, or an increase in the spell power.”

The younger brother’s friend frowns, pressing his forehead and signaling, ‘he’s beyond help’,

“There’s no need for runes and spells. And the way to get to that world will change according to time and place, it’s not something we can say in a few lines. Besides, what are you asking so much for? Didn’t Bob say, not everyone can go there?”

“All we need is an exceptional power, wasn’t it?”

Bob raises his head up from the menu, his finger stopping above ‘fresh mushroom expansion-plan spaghetti’.

“What are you thinking, Junior?”

“Nothing much.”

The dis...o...b..ll on the ceiling keeps reflecting the light off its mirrors, and the piercing rays hurts one’s eyes. Bob, on the other hand, refuses to take off his sungla.s.ses even indoors at midnight, which, in some ways, is the right decision.

“You guys just go on with your plan. Likewise, I want to operate alone too. Just tell me the theory and the method. Anyhow I will prepare that phenomenal power, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

Bob closes up the menu, rubbing his brow with the tip of his finger lightly. The wrinkles around his mouth get even deeper.

“…I thought I said you can’t do it, Junior.”

“Don’t call me in that confusing manner, I’m not your son!”

“And what is that phenomenal power you prepared?”

Rodriguez just happens to reach the instrumental part of his song, the entire room filled with high electrical-wave notes. Shouri leans onto the sofa, saying,

“That’s a trade secret…”

“It’s Bodensee, y’know—”

Abigail s.n.a.t.c.hes the microphone from the doctor, standing on top of a stool and singing as she waves her sleeves,

“Boden-Boden-Boden-y’know—”

“Ah, Graves, don’t say it out loud!”

Suddenly someone hits the table hard, the crockery emitting piercing sounds upon impact. The spoon on the saucer spins non-stop. At first Shouri wanted to ask, “What’re you doing, friend of my brother?”, but the words never left his mouth.

“That isn’t a joke.”

Even though the room is filled with pink or blue light, the change in Murata’s expression is clear, his tone also turning so cold it’s like he’s a different person. If Yuuri was here, he would probably say, “Don’t be friends with a guy who gets so dangerous when he loses it,” right?

“Did you see Bodensee? The one in Germany? Hold on a second here, that isn’t a joke, y’know.”

“Not Germany, it’s Switzerland…”

“It’s all the same!”

“Murata.”

Bob grabs his shoulder to make him sit down, but he displays a rare, agitated reaction that fits his age, even scolding his elder continuously,

“Stop joking around! No matter what we can’t use that thing! Rather than bank on that power, it’d be better to let Niagara flow backwards! If you can only think of that method, no matter how persistent you are, I won’t let you go there.”

“You have no right to decide for me, right, friend of my brother. Besides all you say is ‘that’ or ‘that power’, what on earth is underneath that lake, why don’t you tell me?”

The song ends. Abby & Rod don’t continue playing songs, holding their breath nervously.

“Aaah, dammit!”

Murata takes off his gla.s.ses and messes through his hair forcefully. This isn’t like him, this isn’t like the usual him at all.

“Bother! Even if you want me to say it, that’s something beyond normal human comprehension. In any case the thing we sank into the Bodensee is… No, that wasn’t me!”

“Murata.”

Rodriguez calls his name in a gentle voice. Murata raises his right hand in lieu of a response, taking a deep breath,

“In any case, the thing in there is very dangerous, you must never ever use it simply, if you do, rather than saving s.h.i.+buya…”

He exhales deeply, releasing the excess breath, as though trying his best to restore his pulse to normal.

“…You’ll only force him to a dead-end.”

Shouri is still sitting on the sofa, looking at the agitated high school student in front of him. He slowly untangles the arms crossed in front of his chest, pus.h.i.+ng his gla.s.ses frames up with his pointer finger,

“You said I’ll force Yuu-chan to a dead-end? You’re just a high school student, what right do you have to say that?”

Murata’s blood pressure instantly skyrockets.

“You’re utterly clueless!”

“No matter, it doesn’t matter if you want to say I’m clueless about the situation. Anyhow I want to go there, no matter how dangerous it is, or if I have to go alone, I’m still going to Switzerland. Right, Bob, if I say I hope you’ll invest a little with your platinum card—of course I would really welcome any sponsors.h.i.+ps.”

He was just yelling at Bob just now, so he shouldn’t usually have the face to ask for pocket money. But the situation is urgent, and he can’t care so much anymore. If it was just Shouri’s credit card, just the two-way tickets and lodging would be a stretch. Faced with the sudden change in topic, Bob repeats the word with a look of surprise,

“Platinum card?”

Could it be that his credit card isn’t gold or silver, but black? Shouri starts imagining how the legendary black card must look like. But the man known as the Maou of the financial world, says as he verifies if his chauffeur is still outside,

“My credit card isn’t made of metal, but plastic, y’know. And I rarely buy things with my card either. There’s no need to help the credit card company earn money, right?”

Bob snaps his fingers next to his ear, and his chauffeur immediately comes in. Technically this room should have a perfect soundproofing system, so how did he hear such a tiny sound? Could it be that Bob’s finger-snapping has some sort of special dog whistle-like quality?

“…Wait, Bob, you changed chauffeurs?”

He still remembers that the chauffeur Bob hired in j.a.pan last time was a polite-looking, fifty-plus gentleman. A man who was always wearing a grey hat, a tidy uniform, and was neither fat nor thin. He was always wearing white gloves, and the car was always polished until it sparkled. Although he was of the age when it wouldn’t be surprising if he retired, the new guy is still too modern, right.

The new chauffeur standing next to his master, looks like he’s better suited for other jobs besides holding a steering wheel. Brown skin wrapped in tight leather pants, he even has completely pointless chains hanging from his waist. His short cropped hair has been dyed red and yellow, his ears and lips all pierced, just looking at it feels painful. Although his height and chest aren’t exactly above average, the muscles from his neck to shoulders are extremely well-developed, that’s a body j.a.panese people can’t get no matter how hard they trained.

In that sea of beautiful coffee-color, the white of his eyeb.a.l.l.s and teeth are exceptionally striking.

“Society has gotten more dangerous these days, so I chose him to be my bodyguard from a certain organization.”

The Maou of Earth, who is actually more dangerous than anyone else, gets the man to open the black leather wallet in his hands as he says,

“He was born in the Caribbean, his name is Francois.”

“Fran… cois…”

“Bonjour.”

The man greets in a husky voice that fits his appearance perfectly—it’s French.

“Eh? Bo-bo-bo-bonji?”

The future governor candidate isn’t good at French.

“His driving skills are pretty decent, you know. If you need long distance travel, just say it, I can send him over whenever. Don’t college students always have to go out of town for workshops? Oh, yeah, Francois, give him five hundred.”

After seeing the contents of the wallet, everyone’s expression abruptly change.

“Ah, don’t worry. He may look like this, but he is a qualified accountant! I feel real secure having Francois carry my wallet. You could call him a martial arts accountant.”

Bob immediately explains. Even so, rather than calling him a chauffeur, it would be better to say he’s in charge of watching Bob’s wallet.

The man hands over a few bundles of white hundred US dollar bills, and Shouri accidentally drops them. The new notes in their bundles fall to the cigarette-marked floorboards.

“Hey, heyheyheyhey, hey—Bob!? By five hundred you didn’t mean five hundred USD, but five hundred one hundred dollar bills!?”

Converted that would be over six million j.a.panese yen.

There are three normal citizens staring wide-eyed and wondering, “What on earth is the Maou’s financial situation like?” Besides, carrying so much cash into Europe, wouldn’t that case problem at customs? But Bob looks like it’s completely natural, and asks his new chauffeur to rearrange the rest of the money.

“It’s nothing, this is just some temporary investment. If it’s still not enough to meet your wishes, I’ll send my man there to a.s.sist you. Whatever you need, just tell him.”

“Bob…”

The one who speaks out softly, isn’t Shouri who’s looking confused at the large sum of one, but Murata, who has taken down his thin-rimmed gla.s.ses, the corners of his mouth twitching unnaturally.

“I thought you would object.”

Murata, trying to keep his emotions under control, continues carefully. In the memories of his past past life, Bob was still obviously on his side, so why would he help Shouri do something so stupid now?

“You should know the h.e.l.l we had to go through back then, right? I thought you would definitely object bringing that thing back up.”

“Ken-chan…”

Rodriguez narrows his wrinkled eyes.

“…It shouldn’t be ‘we’, right?”

“That’s right… No, wait, now isn’t the time to care about things like that!”

Murata waves his right hand, so agitated it’s like he wants to toss away the gla.s.ses in his hands, but also as though he’s pointing at something that isn’t there.

“You should know the terror of that thing. Although this is just my personal guess, but the fire that happened before, might just be caused by that thing too. And if even the last one returns there… We can’t take such a huge risk just to let him move to the other world. And more importantly, doing that won’t help s.h.i.+buya at all!”

But Bob raises his eyebrows lightly, like a father who discovered his kid’s prank, and just shrugs it away,

“It’s no point even if you force me. Shouri just is that kind of person, as long as it’s something he decided, it’s useless no matter how others try to persuade him. Since he’s serious, then I have no reason to object.”

“What are you saying!? You don’t have a reason to object!? Isn’t the threat that that Box poses, more than reason enough? Bob, snap out of it, you just have to order him, and you can stop him from using that sort of methods! Isn’t he your heir?”

“You’re right, Shouri is my heir. That’s precisely why, I won’t obey your instructions.”

He slowly uncrosses and re-crosses his legs, putting his hand on the sofa armrest. His fingertips propping up his chin, the man known as Bob smiles warmly, as he says in a voice without a hint of a smile,

“If you forget this, I would really be troubled. This is my world, it belongs to me. No matter what my heir wants to do, as long as it’s within the limits of my tolerance, you have no right to interfere.”

“It all belongs to me, y’know, Murata.”

His blood gushes upwards instantly, the unfamiliar emotion heating up his entire body. Murata is so mad he’s clenching his teeth, feeling his own helplessness deeply. No matter how long his memories go, the truth is he’s just an immature student, this mind and this body have only sixteen years of experience.

Just because he’s in these warm times, huh?

He’s not directing it at anyone, just mumbling it to himself. No, the truth is he knows who he’s talking to.

Yuuri, maybe I do live in these warm times.

Maybe it’s because I lived these past sixteen years without many obstacles, in an environment without loneliness and fear, so even my brain craves world peace now. If the one here weren’t Murata Ken, but Henri Regent… or Nathan Morgan, or even the long-lived Lampedusa[4], then maybe he could think of a more cunning plan.

The long thin metals in Murata’s hands rub against each other, making an unpleasant screech. He forces out the words,

“…You plan on doing it by force?”

Bob just shakes his head and his finger, a signal that it’s over.

The others heave a sigh of relief as though freed from a spell, and Shouri finally accepts the bag Francois hands over. He takes a few steps towards the door, then points his pointer finger at his brother’s friend.

Pointing at him a finger gun.

“Too bad, Murata Ken.”

The recipient just retorts him, unwilling to admit defeat,

“…What can you do even if you go there?”

“Then let me ask you, what can you do if you go there?”

Shouri shoots back the question unhesitatingly. There’s no need to pity him.

“Graves!”

“YEAH?”

She answers in a way too American manner, making him frown in spite of himself. He initially wished she would pay attention to the time and place, speaking in a more beautiful voice.

“Introduce your family to me, then!”

“OH—This is the first step in dating, huh—the j.a.panese are as polite as—always.”

The girl in the glamorous kimono replies enthusiastically in a fake j.a.panese tone. She punches her fist into the air, completely disregarding the way her clothes jump upwards. As expected of a cheerleader captain, she can make the basic jumping movements.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean your parents. I’m referring to that treasure hunter great-grandmother of yours.”

“OH—So this is what they mean by ‘to eat people raw, first eat the horse YEAH!’, right—”

“The original line is ‘to shoot a person, first shoot the horse’, you messed it up completely.”

As the heavy door closes, there’s also the sharp, clear sound of gla.s.s. .h.i.tting the table and shattering.